Reborn
by maymayB
Summary: Denied passage to Valhalla and more importantly to be with his murdered wife, Prince Vegeta has been reborn, burdened with a task. A task of love and revenge, and only hazy dreams to help guide him. Once a Prince, now a motorcycle mechanic... and a very grumpy one at that. A Vegeta/Bulma fic.
1. Chapter 1

**I hope you all like this new fic. Please read the authors note at the end of the chapter. =)**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own DBZ**

 **Warnings: Cursing & Violence...maybe some bow-chick-a-wow-wow later on...who knows.**

* * *

Mass amounts of blood oozed heavily out of his left shoulder. His arm hung limply as his other hand held onto his injured one, trying to slow the bleeding from the gaping gash.

The beaten man sat on his burnt throne. His only working eye, his other was swollen shut and was most likely permanently damaged, surveyed the large room.

Bodies of his loyal soldiers lay strewn about the marble floor, his closest friends among the body count. One of the walls had crumbled in on its self, revealing the bleak outer regions of the palace walls. The once beautiful tapestries were still smoking, the once vibrant, beautiful colored thread, now blackened, most were now ash on the floor.

The floor beneath his feet shook, rumbling angrily, making the loose parts of the building fall, some dangerously close to the unmoving royal on the throne.

The planet's core was unstable, the severity of the earthquakes told him it was only a matter of minutes until he too would meet his end, as would his precious planet and any other living being on it.

He sat and stared blankly. His energy too low to even try to get to an escape pod, but even if he did, he wouldn't. He didn't want to live. Everything was taken away from him.

His planet was about to explode.

His people were dead.

His friends, dead.

His wife. Dead.

His only working hand gripped into a tight ball at the thought of her. She had died in his arms. A quick, but agonizing death. And goddess help him, he cried. A hardened, proud warrior, cried deep, unyielding sobs as he held his wife's bloodied limp body to him, cursing the gods above and below him for taking her away from him. She was his everything. His world, his sun and moon, his perfect match in everything.

He squeezed his eye shut and took a labored breath. He felt at peace for the first time since she had died just two days ago. Although it had felt like a lifetime since she was murdered and he was thrown into war. He was about to meet her in paradise…that is, if he was allowed in the heavenly place. He prayed that the gate keepers of Valhala showed mercy.

But his prayers were cut off as the planet exploded, and blinked out of existence.

* * *

He knew he was dead, he wasn't sure for how long. He wasn't in Valhalla like he had thought he would end up in. He was in an abyss of nothing, time stood still, he wasn't sure how long he had been there, floating in nothingness. Everything was hazy, as if he was in a trance of some sort.

It was boring.

So when he all the sudden materialized in the dead center of a beautiful garden full of the most vibrantly colored flowers, he was more than elated.

"Prince Vegeta." A voice called from behind him.

He whipped around, almost causing himself to stumble to the ground, not used to being corporeal once again.

As he turned, he came face to face with a tall, green man dressed in white and blue robes. It was apparent he was ancient; his eyes glittered with great knowledge.

His lips quirked upward into a small, inviting smile. "Prince Vegeta," He repeated. "I'm glad you're here."

The prince glared at the being, not sure if he was a friend or foe.

"Not to worry." The man said. "I am Kami, I mean you no ill will."

The Prince flinched away from him. "You will tell me what is going on."

Kami nodded, the Prince's cold reception not deterring the green man. "As you've figured out, you were not sent to your blessed Valhalla, but rather was sent to a," He motioned with his slender green hand as he searched for the right word. "holding area of sorts."

"Why have I been denied? I have the right to have passage!" He advanced on the tall green man, but stopped mid stride when he disappeared and reappeared behind him.

"There is a very good reason why you weren't directed to Valhalla." Kami responded, smiling. "You see, your wife was not supposed to die. Her untimely death set forth a domino effect. It was not her time, nor was it yours, and because of this anomaly, we need to right this wrong." He turned and motioned for Vegeta to follow. "You see, before you are born, or even conceived for that matter, a path has already been written out for you…well," He paused, raising a long finger in the air. "Not just you, but everybody." He smiled, then continued. "It is a rarity that something like this happens. But," He said with a sigh. "when it does happen, it diverts the paths of every living being in the universe, if you can believe that." He stopped the two of them in front of a row of rose bushes that backed up to what looked like an abyss of nothing. "Sometimes it's an anomaly that happens, sometimes it's a living being that does it on purpose." Kami turned to Vegeta, who was glaring hatefully at the roses. "In this case, it was a living being that caused this mess that we are all in. And the person knew just what to do in order to upset the balance."

"Who?" Vegeta grit out.

"Unfortunately, the person responsible is, well, was my protégé." Kami looked away from the Prince, and off into the abyss of nothingness. "If I would have known he had a black heart, I would have never taken him under my wing." He shook his head as if shaking off a bad memory. "His name is Piccolo. He is smart and powerful. He must have been plotting this for decades. You, see, my boy, you and your wife were going to do great things for this universe…"

Vegeta's brow shot up in disbelief. He always thought himself a cruel bastard until he met his wife. She too would joke that she tamed the beast within him.

Kami offered him a small smile. "The two of you were going to bring peace to the universe," he nodded his head. "among other things." His smile grew broader and then vanished.

"Me? Bring peace to the Universe? You clearly don't know who I am nor do you know the dealings of my people."

The Green God gave him a chuckle. "Oh, but I do, Prince Vegeta. You are the Crowned Prince of the Saiyans. The most war hungry, powerful and most deadliest race there is. You look for fights, relish war and grow stronger after defeat. Your army was muscle for hire. Your protection went to the highest bidder. Although brutish, you and your people were more or less good in the eyes of the Kai's. "

Vegeta pursed his lips together and nodded. "Ok. Maybe you do know who I am."

"Trust me, you both were destined to for greatness." Kami assured him.

A thought struck Vegeta; "Piccolo was not the one to assassinate my wife, nor was he the one that attacked my people and my planet."

"This is true. He was not, but he was the one pulling the strings."

His eyes squinted into deadly slits. It made sense. The Tuffles, who were the ones to kill his wife and destroy his planet, were the weak beings. It's why they were taken by surprise when they were attacked.

"So what do you want me to do? Hunt this Piccolo down and kill him?"

Kami smirked at him. "Not exactly. There's more to it than that… its a little more complicated than seek and destroy." He motioned for Vegeta to follow him as he walked to the end of the tile flooring where the abyss started. He extended his hand out and waved in, leaving a glowing line in its wake. "I'm a visual person Prince Vegeta." He said turning to him for a moment and then waved his hand again but this time adding a split in the glowing line. "Let's say that the top line is the original time line; where things were to run it's coarse. Where you and you wife grow your empire, bring peace to the universe, have children and die at the ripe age of 158." He looked to Vegeta to make sure he was following what he was saying and then pointed to the split. "The split is where Piccolo decided to cause the rift, making everything that should be shift, causing a domino effect. The Tuffles are now the strongest beings in the Universe, and although they were peaceful beings, their hate for the Saiyans were the cause to make a deal with Piccolo, in exchange for power, they must do his bidding. They have been laying waste to planets for years now."

The Tuffles hated the Saiyans because of a deal gone bad before Vegeta was born. Even he didn't know the true reason behind the feud. Although, it wasn't so much of a feud as it was a nuisance to the Saiyan's than anything. A fly in the ointment. The Tuffles couldn't defend themselves against the Saiyan's so they tried other ways to cause harm, like taking down outposts or trying to explode ships carrying soldiers. Mostly were laughable failed attempts. They started to become the butt of the joke as years passed.

"Wait, years?" Vegeta exclaimed.

Kami's brows furrowed at his outburst. "Yes. Years have passed since your death."

"Wha?" The fact took the air out of his lungs. He'd been dead for years? It had felt like he was just on his crumbling throne. Days since he held his dying wife in his arms, crying sad, angry tears, vowing to her that he'd avenge her death.

He clutched at his tattered armor, above his heart. It was all too much for the hardened ruler to take.

"I know, Prince, it's a shock. But I had to keep you in purgatory until it was the right time."

"The right time for what!?"

"Until your wife's soul was reborn. You cannot defeat Piccolo or the Tuffles without her."

Vegeta's eyes lit up with hope. "My wife is alive?"

Kami lifted his hands up, stopping Vegeta from getting too enthusiastic. "Not exactly. Her soul had to be reborn. She isn't exactly your wife, per say. She will look similar to her, will have the same characteristics as her. But she is a different person… she won't be as… easy going as your wife was." He muttered the last part, shaking his head.

Kami had taken it upon himself to glimpse the future to see how this young girl would turn out to see how different she would be. She was quite entertaining to watch, and knowing how the Prince was in his short life, he knew that the two were a pair to draw for. It was going to be a challenge, but he knew that fate would take hold of their futures.

The Prince was in for a challenge, but he knew he'd prevail.

"Your wife's soul will be reborn into a human woman. It is up to you to rejoin her."

Vegeta's patience was wearing thin. He didn't care for the green mans on again, off again cryptic lingo. "What do you mean, rejoin her?"

Kami grimaced slightly. "You must find her, and get her to fall in love with you when the time is right. Then, and only then, will her soul awaken fully. Once you've crossed that hurtle, then she and you will defeat Piccolo and restore balance in the Universe."

He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Are you telling me, that I have to make some earth woman fall in love with me? No. I'm not doing that." He turned around and started walking away from Kami. "Send me to Valhalla!"

Kami shook his head. "It doesn't work that way. You've been burdened with this responsibility, Prince Vegeta. I would think you would want to be reunited with your wife." He waved his hand, summoning a picture of a woman with shining blue hair. "This is who your wife's soul will be reborn to.

Vegeta hesitantly turned around and looked at the picture Kami had summoned out of thin air. He studied it; the woman looked as if she was a distant relative of his wife. Her coloring was off. His wife had brown eyes that shined almost red in the sunlight. This…woman who supposedly was his wife reincarnated had bright blue eyes and matching long blue hair.

He had to admit though; the woman was just as beautiful as his wife.

"Once she falls in love with you, her soul's memory will kick in. It will be as if she never departed."

He sneered. "Will my planet be restored, along with my people who perished?"

The god shook his head. "No. But," He rose a clawed finger up in the air. "there are some Saiyan descendants on Earth, where you'll be sent to."

Vegeta exhaled heavily. "Is that supposed to make me feel better?"

Kami shrugged. "I was hoping so."

Vegeta crossed his arms and exhaled heavily, eyeing the ancient god, annoyed. "I'm getting the feeling I do not have a choice in the matter."

Kami smiled. "No, Prince Vegeta. You don't. It is your duty. Your birthright. Do not deny yourself or your wife of that."

The Prince hung his head in defeat. He knew in his heart of hearts there was no getting out of this. Plus, the thought of rejoining his wife was appealing… not to mention the revenge part where he and his wife could beat the life out of this Piccolo character. "Fine." He growled.

"Splendid." Kami smiled whole heartedly. "There is a catch."

"Well, of course there is." Vegeta grumbled.

"You won't be you. Well, you will be, but won't be at the same time." Kami grinned.

"Wha?" He scowled at the old god. "What does that even mean?"

"Well, you will be reincarnated into an Earthling, but unlike your wife, you will know who you were in your passed life. Sort of."

Again, Vegeta pinched the bridge of his nose and started counting, a trick his wife had taught him, he really wanted to kill this Kami. He was confusing and really was testing his patience.

"Oh you'll find out. Ready?"

"What? Now?"

"Yup." Kami clapped his hands, and everything went white.

* * *

He jolted out of bed, gasping for air.

The damned alarm clock's volume was turned up to the max, effectively scaring the ever loving shit out of him.

He rolled out of bed and stumbled to the bathroom, going straight for the sink. He splashed cold water on his face a few times, trying to snap himself into being awake. He then looked up into the mirror, not bothering to wipe the water away and stared into his bloodshot eyes.

He drank too much last night, knowing full well that he had to be into work the next morning. And, looking back at it, it really wasn't worth it. He had gone to bed alone, a sign of a night of drinking ending in a fail.

As if on queue, his head started to pound.

He continued to stare at himself in the mirror. His jet black hair was wild from the restless, drunken sleep, making him look even more hungover. His eyes burned as he continued to stare unblinking at his face, trying to remember what his dreams had told him the night before…

He did this almost every morning, ever since he could remember. His features were the same as the man he dreamt about. The man from a different time, possibly from a different planet… or hell, maybe he was slowly going insane from the age of eight. Who knows.

With one last look at his tired face, he pushed away from the sink and readied himself for the day.

A very long, haggard day.

* * *

Thursdays were the worst. It was the one day he wasn't in the shop. Instead of using his hands for fixing choppers, he was using them to answer phones, type up invoices and deal with customer's bullshit.

And of course the phone was ringing off the hook the moment he stepped foot into his shop, and hadn't stopped ringing since.

An hour had passed since opening the doors for the day, and he'd dealt with three pissed off customers, answered a handful of questions, cussed out a telemarketer and collected on a late invoice that was owed.

"Hey hey, Vegeta!"

He looked up from the computer screen to his friend and employee, who was just now waltzing into work a whole sixty minutes late.

Vegeta snarled and was about to tell him off, but the phone started to ring…again.

He snatched up the receiver. "Vegeta's Chop Shop. What do you want." He growled. "Ya, were open seven days a week. Just bring it in, we'll ruin diagnostics." He slammed the phone down and went into the break room.

"You're thirty fucking minutes late, Kakkarot."

The man looked over his shoulder, who was buttoning up his work shirt. He turned around, giving his boss a huge smile. "Well, well, look who has a hangover!" He laughed then pointed to his name patch. "G-O-K-U" He said slowly, deliberately as if talking to an infant. "One of these years you'll get it."

Vegeta's lip curled upward. "Ya, and this is how I spell you're fired." He gave him the middle finger.

Goku merely laughed and walked over to a beat up calendar with a half naked lady straddling a Harley, hanging on the greased stained wall. "That makes a total of thirty eight of me being fired this year." He said, marking a tick mark on the calendar.

"Well, if you weren't so good at your job, you would have been canned long ago, Fuck Stick." Vegeta spat.

"Ya." Goku agreed. "That and it pays to be the boss's childhood friend."

Vegeta rolled his eyes. "If I can drag my ass into work after a night of drinking, you can too. You left me short handed. Hurry the hell up and get in the garage. Jake Murray will be here in two hours to pick up his bike and if it aint done, I'll be sending him your way."

He stomped back up to the front to answer the never ending phone calls.

By lunch time he managed to clear all the customers out, a rare miracle, and locked the doors to get an hour of peace and quiet. Goku and Nappa, his other employee, left to go grab some lunch, giving Vegeta a much needed break from everybody.

He sat in his office and nursed a bottle of water. It was hot out, and having a hangover when it was nearing 109 degrees outside just wasn't enjoyable. He mindlessly looked at the framed photos that were hanging on his wall, something his ex-girlfriend had done as a surprise one day to make his office more 'inviting.'

The photos were mostly of choppers Vegeta had restored, some of them were of his own collection and a handful of them were photos of he when he was in the military. One was of he and his battalion standing in the middle of the desert, guns in hand, all with serious looks on their faces. Another was of just him on top of a tank, he was decked out in his camo's, complete with his helmet and wrap around glasses. His ex- girlfriend had told him he looked like a badass in this photo.

The military had been a great outlet for him. He had enlisted when he turned eighteen; it gave him a sense of direction in his unruly life and taught him life lessons, one being how to work on machinery, namely motorcycles and it probably saved him from a life in a motorcycle gang.

When he had ended his military career, he barrowed money from his parents and opened his own shop. It was his pride and joy, and since he was good at it, he was successful. He was able to pay his parents back within two years of operation and was ready to expand in the next year or so.

He averted his eyes from the wall of photos, not really wanting to go down memory lane. He decided to run through the days to do list, it would deter him from going down memory lane. It was a bumpy one, at best.

* * *

"Here." Goku said with a mouthful of a ham and cheese sub sandwich. "I got ya a turkey melt." He placed the sub sandwich on Vegeta desk.

He grunted at his friend as a thank you. "Is the Triumph ready?"

Goku shook his head. "The gas tank needs to be reattached. Then it'll be ready."

"Good. Reattach it. I want it done by closing so I can deliver it."

Goku sneered. "We're a delivery service now?"

"The owner paid extra to have it delivered." Vegeta sighed and got up from his desk. "Now go on and get back to work. I don't pay you to stand around and bullshit all day."

* * *

5:30 didn't come fast enough.

Goku helped him load and strap down the motorcycle into Vegeta's work truck. He wasted no time taking off, not wanting to burn anymore of his time than he needed to.

Delivering a motorcycle, especially one that was a work of art and rebuilt to perfection by him was sacrilege. Who brought in a classic chopper to be rebuilt and not want to drive home from the shop?

He tried to remember who had brought it in. If he remembered correctly, it was a man, not older than he, if he had to guess. He didn't really seem like the motorcycle riding type. More of a meat head, go to the gym and post pics of he and his protein shakes and brag about how many leg presses he did on facebook type.

Vegeta rolled his eyes. He went to the gym and didn't feel the need to tell everyone who would listen that he worked out, nor did he see the reason to post selfies of himself lifting weights. He just didn't get people.

If memory served, he wasn't the owner of the chopper, but was a friend of the owner.

The GPS led him to the edge of town and onto the dirt road that led to a handful of houses on large amounts of properties. He had considered buying a house in this area, but in the end decided to live in town, close to the shop.

The GPS directed him onto a long paved driveway, when he got to the end of it, he parked in front of a nice looking home. It was definitely old, but it was well taken care of. The lawns were manicured, and there were an assortment of flowers lining the house.

…This was not a bikers home. Possibly a weekend warrior, a man who enjoyed motorcycle rides on the weekends. Vegeta barely tolerated those types; the Weakend Warriors.

He got out of the truck and went to work on unstrapping and unloading the bike, which took a little longer than he liked, since it was only him. But he finally got it down and walked it over to the front of the porch. He kicked the kickstand out and looked over the beauty one last time, just to make sure it didn't get nicked by any rocks or loose gravel on the journey over.

Satisfied, he went up the porch and knocked on the door, tapping his foot impatiently as he did so. He wanted to get this over with; he was tired and all he wanted to do was do a face plant onto his bed and sleep.

"I'll be right there!" Came a muffled female voice from within. Hurried footsteps could be heard coming from the back of the home.

The door cracked open, revealing one bright blue eye. "Can I help you?"

"I've got your bike. I need for you to sign for it." Vegeta grumbled.

"Oh! It's here!" The door flew open, revealing a woman with blue hair that was up in a high pony tail, dressed in a pair of cut off overalls and a tank top… and holding a shot gun.

Vegeta peeled his eyes off of the woman, who he was not expecting to answer the door for some reason. She was a beauty. But he also wasn't expecting to be greeted by a good looking woman with a shotgun in her hand.

"Oh!" She repeated, noticing what he was staring at. "Sorry." She grimaced apologetically and stowed the shot gun in the entry way of the home and exited. "Sorry about that. You never know who's going to come to your door around these parts."

Vegeta's brow rose, perplexed. "Sure." He handed his clipboard to her and then a pen. "Sign here and here, and here but only after you inspect the bike. I don't want to get a call later asking for me to pick it up because somethings not to your liking."

The woman's brows furrowed at his curt attitude. She took the clip board and pen and walked over to the bike.

She walked around it twice, her eyes scanning the beautiful classic bike, pausing at times to run her hand over the gas tank and the hand stitched, leather seat. "You did a beautiful job." She smiled up at Vegeta, who was now standing close to the bike, watching her inspection.

"I always do."

The woman looked at him thoughtfully. "It's why I picked you." She offered him a polite smile and then straddled the bike.

"You don't strike me as a motorcycle enthusiast."

She chuckled. "I'm not. But this bike meant a lot to my dad, and getting it restored was on his to do list before he died, but he never got around to it. So I got it done in his honor."

"So now what? You're just going to stow it away and never let it see the light of day?" He accused. It wasn't everyday he got a classic chopper like this one. He put in some hard work restoring this bike, and it urked him thinking it would just rot away in a garage. A bike of this caliber needed to be ridden, showed off. Not be cast away in a fucking barn.

The woman's eyes narrowed on him. "For your information, I ride. And no, it will get to see the light of day. I plan on using it quite often thank you very much." She signed the paperwork and shoved it into his hands.

"You don't look like you could handle such machinery. It doesn't even look like you could handle a strong gust of wind, let alone a motorcycle."

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me. This bike deserves respect and an owner that can handle it."

"What makes you think I don't respect this bike?" She yelled, her blue eyes flashing with white hot anger.

Vegeta crossed his arms, standing his ground. "Well for starters you yourself said to me that you aren't an enthusiast. This bike deserves more than a girl who is merely completing a bucket list and rides occasionally. It deserves better than that."

"You don't know jack shit about me!"

"Oh?" He gave her a defiant smirk. "Let me guess, you drive one of those shit ass crotch rockets. You probably got it painted pink or some other girly ass color and have a matching pink helmet with Hello Kitty on it."

She opened her mouth, but shut it, apparently not able to come up with a retort. He could tell he had the upper hand in the argument, and that she was trying hard holding in her anger.

Her cheeks were flushed and the skin on her shoulders were turning red. She stared at him as she gripped the keys that were in the ignition.

"Thank you for your service, jackass." She turned the keys, waking the beast of a motor up and revved it, making the beefy motor roar. She then released the kick stand and took off, disappearing around the house.

Vegeta huffed and stomped to his work truck and got in and looked down at the signed paperwork.

"Bulma Briefs."

He tossed the clip board away from him and took off down the driveway.

It was a shame to see such a beautiful chopper go to an undeserving home.

* * *

Unbeta'd...don't worry, future chapters WILL be beta'd

 **Authors note:**

 **Firstly, I wanted to let me loyal readers/followers know that Destiny Lost and Complicated Hearts is on hiatus. I know you all have already deduced that they were, but I wanted to assure you, like always, that I will not abandon them. They are very near and dear to my heart, but I must write when I am inspired and the Inspiration Fairy has sprinkled her inspiration dust on my Joker fic and this one as well.**

 **Secondly, I hope this first chapter wasn't too confusing =) But I would like to know what you think? Good? Bad?**

 **Be sure to join mine and Mallie_3's google+ Community We're Just Saiyan. You won't regret it!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Yo Yo Yo! I'm alive!**

 **For those who are wondering about Complicated Hearts and Destiny Lost, please see the authors note at the bottom =)**

 **Disclaimer: I own nothing!**

 **Warnings: Cursing… because, Vegeta.**

* * *

 _His mother had always told him first impressions were important, but that little nugget of wisdom never really stuck with the Prince. Especially upon being introduced to the General of the Royal Saiyan Army_ _'_ _s daughter._

 _He merely sneered in her direction, tossed a few jabs at her about her small stature, and ignored her presence the entire time they were at dinner._

 _He knew he had pissed his mother off. This wasn_ _'_ _t the first time she had invited a female to dinner, her way of subtly telling him he should start thinking about marrying, and this certainly wasn_ _'_ _t the first time he'd thrown her efforts directly in her face._

 _He would marry when he was ready. He wouldn_ _'_ _t do so under anybody_ _'_ _s orders other than his own._

 _But the evening didn_ _'_ _t end like the others._

 _He came across the female in the gardens, on his way back to his chambers._

 _She graciously bowed in respect, and then bravely looked him directly in the eyes, something that a female in his presence had never had the gall to do. "I thank you for your gracious invitation tonight. Dinner was lovely." Her voice was smooth as silk. "But your attitude was anything but. I expected to be in the presence of a Prince, not a spoilt boy trying to prove a point." She curtsied, turned on her heel, and proceeded to go the opposite direction he was going._

 _It wasn_ _'_ _t every day someone spoke their mind to him. It was such a surprise he was at a loss for words, and instead of reacting, he stood there as he watched her walk away._

 _A week later he was sent to a neighboring planet, along with a small number of soldiers, to put an end to an uprising. The mission was supposed to be simple, but the mission turned into a full out battle, leaving the Prince to call for more back up._

 _After fifteen days of bloody battle, he found himself sleep-deprived and hungry: not a good combination for a Saiyan. And because of this he was sluggish, causing him to misjudge a blast that was meant for him, instead of batting it away easily, he missed and the blast grazed his neck._

 _He ignored the searing pain and lunged forward at his attacker, but found himself uncoordinated, probably from the blood loss at his neck. He felt himself sink to the ground, all the while trying to defend himself. His attacker advanced on him, and when he was sure he was going to receive a killing blow, something he didn_ _'_ _t think would happen so soon in his life, he was surprised to see a fellow saiyan jump over him and deliver a powerful kick, sending the assailant sailing through the air and out of sight._

 _Prince Vegeta blinked groggily_ _, and if he had the strength, he_ _'_ _d have the look of surprise written on his face._

 _Squatting next to him was none other than the General_ _'_ _s daughter._

 _She batted his hand away and covered the wound on his neck with both hands. "_ _Stop fighting me!_ _" She screamed down at him._

" _Get off of me, wench!" He weakly tried to buck her off of him. He didn_ _'_ _t need anybody_ _'_ _s help, least of all hers. But the blood loss had made him too weak, more than he_ _'_ _d like to admit._

" _Stop being a bitch!" She yelled at him. "Nappa! This is Buruma! Come to my coordinates! The Prince has been injured, he needs a regen tank ASAP!" She yelled into her scouter._

 _He peered up at her, murder in his eyes. "You dare speak to your prince that way. I_ _'_ _ll have your head." But his words slurred heavily and his eye lids started to droop._

" _No! Prince Vegeta! You must stay awake!" She jostled him, startling him awake. "You must stay awake."_

 _Again, he peered up at her, taking her in. He hadn_ _'_ _t noticed before, but she really was a beautiful female. He didn_ _'_ _t give her the time of day when she was invited to dinner, mostly to spite his mother. She was covered head to toe in filth, dirt and blood. Her hair was mussed from battle and she had a pretty bad looking burn from a blast on her left shoulder. Her overall appearance only made him think she looked all the more sexier… but then again, it could have been the blood loss._

" _Come on, Prince. Why don_ _'_ _t you throw an insult my way, tell me I_ _'_ _m ugly or something."_

 _He chuckled. "You really are a brazen bitch."_

 _Buruma smirked. "You_ _'_ _ve no idea, Prince._ _"_

 _He went in and out of consciousness, but every time he regained consciousness, she was there, still holding onto his neck, her beautiful dark brown eyes watching him full of concern. Even when he was put into the regen tank, she stayed there until his vitals were steady, making sure her Prince was safe._

 _The gesture didn_ _'_ _t go unnoticed by Prince Vegeta._

* * *

It all started at a young age; the dreams of the Other him.

He'd dream of a boy that looked just like him, who had the same name and similar looks. He was from another time, and he deduced that he was from another planet and was royalty.

The Other him mirrored his mannerisms and was what his mother would call him 'rough around the edges.' The only difference between he and the Other him was that Other him was way more violent then he was…although present Vegeta was not far from that mark.

When he was ten, he asked his parents why they named him Vegeta. Maybe there was some sort of connection. His mother told him that she had found the name in a book of ancient names she bought at a local book shop. His father picked the name because of its meaning:

"Vegeta: Great and powerful. Royal and prideful. He who has this name will conquer and will leave destruction in his wake."

That didn't surprise Vegeta one bit. His father, the Prez of a well-known Motorcycle club, was known for destruction and not so legal things.

He wasn't one for believing in past lives. At least, he wouldn't admit it to anybody. But he knew that he was connected to this Past Vegeta person.

As he grew, so did the Other him in his dreams.

Their life paths were so similar.

He wondered why he got these dreams, and if they really did hold any kind of importance…

#$%^&*()

The following Monday, it was business as usual.

Vegeta was in the shop, wrenching on one of his father's friend's choppers. It got wrecked in a high speed chase. His father and friend wanted to give him more details, but Vegeta stopped them from divulging anymore than that.

The less he knew, the better. He didn't want to be dragged into his fathers illegal bullshit.

The day was going smoothly. Vegeta was doing what he loved, and the heat wave had broken, leaving it a nice and tolerable eighty five degrees out while Metallica blasted throughout the shop.

That is until Jacky, his front desk worker, came into the shop.

"Vegeta! Phone call!"

He grumbled, but he knew if he ignored her, she'd just keep screaming at him to come and answer the phone.

He stood up and tossed the wrench he was using to stomp inside to the office.

"Line two." Jacky chirped before turning her attention to the customer at the counter.

Vegeta wiped his hands on his pants, knowing it was a mute gesture. The grease wasn't going anywhere without proper washing. And then he grabbed the receiver.

"Ya." He grunted.

"Is this Vegeta?" An irate, female voice questioned at the other end of the line.

He rolled his eyes, he really wanted to mouth off, but held his tongue. "Yes."

"This is Bulma Briefs, you know, the non-bike enthusiast?"

He groaned. "Ah, yes. Hello Kitty." He smirked, and held in a snicker. "I don't repair crotch rockets."

He heard her sigh heavily. "That's not why I called. You screwed up my father's bike."

Vegeta's smirk vanished. "What do you mean, I screwed up your father's bike? It was in perfect condition!"

"The gas tank is loose. Whoever put it back on didn't do it properly."

His eyes immediately darted to the idiot who put the gas tank on incorrectly through the large window looking into the shop.

"Of course it is." He muttered under his breath.

"I didn't pay you a shit ton of money, up front, for a defective bike. You know, if I didn't know anything about bikes, I wouldn't have caught the screw-up, and I would have most definitely crashed, or worse." Her voice was dripping with condescension.

He grit his teeth, holding back the barrage of curse words that were at the tip of his tongue. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "I am…sorry….this happened to you."

"Wow, did that hurt you? Jesus, is that the first time you've said sorry to anybody?"

At this point, Vegeta left eye lid started to twitch and his free hand was fisting into a tight ball. Again, through gritted teeth, he replied, "Would you like for me to come over and fix the gas tank?"

"Well, duh, dummy! I'll expect you in the next thirty minutes."

The line went dead.

Vegeta, gone past seeing red, was now seeing nothing by white hot anger, and hung the phone up calmly. He walked back into the shop, where he stood in the doorway for a solid minute, contemplating going over to the nitwit in question, punching him square in the junk, and maybe throwing in a few good kicks for good measure. But he knew it wasn't worth it. Kakarot would somehow laugh it off or Nappa would stop him from pummeling him and it would just leave him aching for more.

So, he grabbed a sturdy canvas tool bag, tossed in all the necessary tools he would need to fix the harpy woman's gas tank, and went back inside.

"Jacky, I'm leaving early today. Got to fix dumb-nuts fuck up at a customer's house. Let Kakarot know his ass is fired, too."

He didn't wait for her to respond and stomped out to his chopper. It was one of the only things that made him happy, besides good sex and a glass of good whiskey. He tied down the bag full of tools with a bungee cord around the sissy bar and looked over to the open garage door, where he could see Kakarot joking around with Nappa.

Oh, he so wanted to hurt him.

Instead, he slid his glasses on, straddled the bike and gave the kick-starter two good pumps with his right foot, waking the beefy motor up and revved it a few times, setting off a car alarm in the parking lot and shooting off into traffic.

The ride there wasn't long enough, especially when he saw that the blue haired woman was waiting for him on her porch, her foot impatiently tapping on the steps she was sitting on, a scowl painted on her lips.

"Too good for a helmet?" She said as she got up from the stairs.

He rolled his eyes and kicked the kickstand out. He silently got off of the bike and un-bungee'd his tool bag, looking at her expectantly and annoyed.

She gave him a haughty look and motioned for him to follow. "Come on, it's in the barn."

Upon entering the barn, he was surprised to see it was converted into a garage. There were at least four heavy-duty rolling metal tool boxes lining the back wall, along with other various tools hanging on the wall neatly. But what really caught his attention was the rare muscle car parked smack dab in the middle of the barn.

Vegeta tore his eyes away from the car and set his sights on the task at hand.

"See?" She said, wiggling the gas tank on the chopper.

Vegeta hummed and nodded his head. The damned thing was loose. "I'm going to have to take it completely off. Do you happen to have a gas can and something to siphon?"

She shook her head. "No need, I already did that while I was waiting for you to get here."

His eyes widened for a moment in surprise, but quickly grumbled at her. "Fine." He squatted down in front of the bike and rummaged through his tool bag to find the proper tool. "I'm going to kick the shit out of Kakarot for fucking this up." He mumbled as he wrenched on the gas tank. "Woman, grab a tarp so I can set this down without scratching the shit out of it."

She glared at him, but did as she was asked. "My name is Bulma."

"And I don't care."

She sat down opposite of him. "Why are you so grumpy?"

Vegeta rolled his eyes and kept silent, not in the mood to answer.

Bulma watched as he worked, her eyes moving up his muscled arms over the intricate dragon tattoo that wrapped around all the way up his forearm to his shoulder, the bulk of the tattoo hidden under his t-shirt.

"Hold this." He grumbled as he shoved a tool in her hands, grabbed hold of the gas can and shimmied it off of the frame of the bike.

"That's a nice tat you got there." She motioned with her chin to the dragon tattoo on his arm.

His eyes flickered to her for a moment as he placed the gas can atop the tarp.

"What does it mean?"

Vegeta's brow creased as he grabbed the tool she was holding for him and started working on the frame to remove the last of the bolts. "What do you mean?"

"Well." She sat down on the ground crossed legged and propped herself up with her arms behind her. "Everybody gets tattoos for a reason. You were either drunk one night and decided on the pretty dragon, which doesn't really sound like something you would do, or the dragon means something."

"It doesn't sound like me?" He challenged. "I've known you for a total of thirty minutes. You don't know me."

She chuckled through her nose. "Oh, I've got your number, Mr. Grumpy-holier than thou-I've got a major tree branch up my ass biker man."

Vegeta stopped mid wrench and turned his body completely, so that he was face to face with her. "Tree branch up my ass?" He growled.

"Mmmhmm." She nodded haughtily. "I know you drink, I mean, I can tell, but you are such a control freak that you would have to have the self-control to not do something majorly stupid when you're drunk, ie: get a tattoo. I have a feeling that if you were to get inked up, it would have to have meaning. So? What does your dragon tattoo mean?"

She smiled up at him, waiting for her answer.

He was fuming. This lady had some major nerve….But what really irked him was that she'd assumed correctly. "Well, you seem to be an expert on how I am as a person, why don't you tell me?"

"Nah, I'd rather hear it from the source."

He rolled his eyes and went back to working on the bike. He knew if he didn't reply, she'd just keep yapping and probably talk him to death. He sighed.

"I got it when I was seventeen. My father has a matching one."

Bulma nodded. "But what does it mean?"

He grit his teeth and snatched the gas can off of the tarp. "My father is Prez of a motorcycle club. I was a prospect when I was seventeen. All members have a dragon tattoo."

"So you're in a club, where's your cut?"

"No, I'm not in a club—son of bitch!" He yelped and yanked his hand out from the bike. In his annoyance, his hand slipped from the wrench, and he managed to slice the side of his hand on a sharp edge poking out of the bike.

Bulma acted fast and got a clean rag from the work bench, wrapping his bleeding hand before he could react. "That'll need stitches. C'mon." She pulled his arm, and wasn't surprised in the least when he remained where he stood.

"Just wrap it. It'll be fine."

She glared up at him and gripped his arm harder. "I have a medical kit in my house, and I'd appreciate it if you'd come, because I just got the floor refinished, and I don't want my garage stained with your blood."

He reluctantly followed her and sat on the porch in front of her house while she fetched the first aid kit, all the while muttering under his breath about how he wouldn't be sitting here bleeding all over the annoying woman's porch if it weren't for his no-good, asshole friend, Kakarot.

"Here." Bulma said as she sat down opposite of him on the porch, her arms full of a first aid kit, a couple of small towels, and hydrogen peroxide.

He gave her his hand and watched as she doused his hand with peroxide. It fizzed and bubbled the second it hit his hand, cleaning the cut and reacting to all the grime imbedded into his hands.

"So, you're not in a club?"

His hand was on fire; the cut was deeper than he wanted to admit. He set his jaw and looked away from the large gash. "No. I'm not in a club. I haven't been since I was a teenager."

She gave him a small smile and nodded her head. "Well that's good. Nothing good comes out of those gangs. Nothing but a bunch of violence-hungry men that like to terrorize innocent people."

He growled. "Not every club is like that." Which was true….Though his club _was_ one of those. Along with his father and his MC, he had done some pretty horrible things. Which is why he'd left for the army.

Bulma gave him a look of haughty disbelief and dabbed a clean towel over the cut, drying it off. "You're not squeamish are you?"

Vegeta rose his eyebrow at her. "Ya. I scream like a little girl when I see a spider in the bathroom." He deadpanned.

"O-okay then." A flicker of humor shined in her eyes as she threaded a needle and sterilized it with a lighter she took out of her pocket. "Just checking." She murmured and plunged the needle into his hand and worked quickly, stitching the cut together. "Not even a flinch." She complimented.

"This isn't my first time being stitched up." He commented boredly. "And obviously this isn't your first time stitching somebody up."

She nodded. "Having a daredevil of a father gave me a lot of practice." She paused a moment to look up at him, and for a moment, Vegeta felt something familiar when his dark brown eyes met her crystal blue ones. It quickly morphed into an unfamiliar yet warm tingly feeling in his belly; something he felt not long ago…in a dream.

He quickly shook the feeling off and looked away. This wasn't the time to reflect on his continuous dreams and the feelings that came with them.

"I'm afraid you wont be able to do much with this hand for a while. I'll put the gas can back on myself."

"Tch!"

"What?" She yelled. "I can do it."

Vegeta laughed. "You? Hello Kitty can put a gas can back on a chopper?" He laughed deliberately at her.

She pulled on the thread a little too hard to show him she didn't appreciate his attitude, earning her a low yelp from him. "Yes. I know my way around a wrench and other tools, ya sexist jack ass."

"I'm not sexist." He growled. "I just cant imagine you wrenching away on any kind of machinery."

"And just what does that mean?"

He rolled his eyes. "You look like you're the type of chick who'd throw a fit if you broke a nail."

"That so?" She argued, swiftly tying off the thread and cutting the excess.

"Ya, that is so. What? You can dish it, but you can't take it?" He retorted.

She huffed and tossed her supplies to the side. "No. You just have me pegged wrong. You don't know shit about me."

"Ya? Well right back at you, Woman."

"That's it!" She shot up from her sitting position. "You're gonna sit and watch while I put that gas tank back on, the right way!"

He stood up and followed her. "Oh, yes. This I got to see. I bet I could do this with one hand tied behind my back."

"We'll see about that." She shot over her shoulder and stomped all the way back to the barn.

"If you're so confident about putting the damn gas tank the right way, then why did you call me here in the first place?"

"Because," she huffed. "I'm not the one that put it on incorrectly in the first place. Now, sit down." She pulled a rolling stool up next to the bike and pointed at it. "And watch."

He did what he was told and gingerly crossed his arms, taking care not to hit his stitched hand. It was throbbing something fierce. He looked down at the stitch job she had done, and he had to admit, she did a good job. It would be a good looking scar, one more to add to the collection.

"I'll bet I'll do it faster than you, too." She quipped as she held the gas can down and wrenched on it furiously.

"Only because I already put it on and started to attach it."

Bulma rolled her eyes and continued to work on the can. "Why aren't you in a club anymore?"

"Why do you ask so many questions?" He retorted.

"Why are you deflecting?" She reached down to get another bolt off of the tarp and looked at him expectantly. "It's called small talk, Vegeta. I know you're probably new to it, but it's considered polite to make conversation instead of just huffing and grumbling in silence."

He glared at her. "I don't like to partake in small talk. And if you haven't noticed, I'm not polite." He gritted out. Why was he sitting there? He should be walking out to his bike right now and headed home.

A small smile again graced her lips, and she turned her attention back to the gas tank. "My father was in an MC. "

Vegeta's brow quirked up. "Lemme guess? Some weekend warrior, wanna-be MC?"

She shook her head. "No," she said, irritated. "He was a Forsaken Soul."

"Forsaken Soul." He muttered. The club name sounded so familiar. "It's not an active MC." It wasn't a question. He knew about every MC in the state, at least the big hitters. And if it wasn't a big hitter, it wasn't considered an MC…at least in Vegeta's eyes.

She shook her head and grabbed the last bolt. "No. It's not active anymore. It died with my father. " She said grimly. "He died for his MC. In vain, unfortunately."

He nodded. That was exactly why he left for the army. The MC life had its perks, but he wasn't too keen on giving up his freedom or his life because of some turf war or other minuscule thing like arms dealing. Which made his enlistment into the army ironic. But at least fighting for his country and his country's freedom seemed like a better way to die than on the streets.

His father didn't understand his reasoning either. He was disappointed in his son. He was planning on leaving his legacy to Vegeta. And, as of late, his father had been pressuring him into re-entering the Cursed Dragons now that he was honorably discharged from the army and back in town. Vegeta refused each time, but his father wasn't taking no for an answer, especially lately.

"It's why I got out when I could."

Bulma nodded sullenly then cleared her throat. "Finished." She pointed to the gas can.

Vegeta got up to inspect it, shaking it to make sure she had tightened it properly. He nodded curtly, as he inspected it. She did a good job. Well, a better job than Kakarot, anyway. "A decent job…for a girl, that is." He smirked up at her and chuckled when she threw a sour look at him.

"So, can you now admit that I deserve this bike?" She patted the leather seat.

He rolled his eyes, but kept silent.

"I'll take that as a yes." She smiled triumphantly then looked down at his injured hand. "How's your hand doing? Is it hurting bad?"

He shrugged.

She narrowed her eyes at him, knowing full well what that meant in 'guy language.' "Come on, tough guy, I've got something for you."

He followed her into her house and waited in the kitchen for her to return, and almost immediately his eyes fell on her shotgun. It was up against the door jam of the entry way of the kitchen. It was peculiar to him, especially remembering her answering the door with it in her hand when he came over the first time.

It was peculiar to him because, even though she did live in the outskirts of town, the only real threat would be coyotes, but they mostly came out during the night… She was spooked. And he had a feeling it wasn't because of an animal.

"Here." She said as she entered the kitchen, holding up a plastic baggie with three white pills in it. "I have almost a full bottle of these pain meds from when I had a root canal six months ago. They're pretty powerful, so make sure you're not going to be on your bike after you take them. And also, don't get pulled over with these; it looks bad."

He shook his head. "I won't need those."

Her brow quirked up. "Ya, you will." She ignored his sour face and stuffed them into this chest pocket. "Make sure you keep that thing clean and take it easy. You don't want to pop a stitch." She patted his chest, where she had stuffed the pills and winked at him.

For the millionth time that evening, it seemed, he rolled his eyes.

"Thanks for coming by to fix the chopper."

He nodded once and eyed the shotgun again. "What's with the piece?" He motioned towards the gun.

She, too, looked at it, and shrugged. "You never know if a scumbag is going to make an appearance." She looked away from him, and her body language told him she didn't want to be asked about it.

Her response puzzled him. She lived in the sticks. Nobody came out here but farmers and those who wanted to live outside of the city limits.

"I should be heading back," he said, not wanting to push the subject. His hand was hurting and he really just wanted to be alone. She tested his patience far beyond its limits, and he wasn't sure how long he could contain himself until he'd have a thermal nuclear meltdown.

"Alright. See you around, Vegeta. It was a pleasure."

He gave her a sideways glance, noting her sarcasm, and gave her a parting frown as he exited the kitchen and out of the house.

He lightly gripped the handle bar with his injured hand and kick started his bike, and began the drive back into town.

And all he could think of on his way home was how familiar this all was to him, and how the General's Daughter in his dreams, Baruma, reminded him so much of Bulma.

* * *

Beta'd by: Springandbysummerfall

Authors Note: I've received A LOT of PM's and reviews for Complicated Hearts and Destiny Lost. DO NOT WORRY! I have not abandoned those fics! Promise! Be patient with me! =) Soon, very soon =)


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